HELEN GRANVILLE BARKER 















9 




Class __ 

Book J ' ( 

Copight N" 1^) I'j n > 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



SONGS IN CITIES AND 
GARDENS 



BY 
HELEN GRANVILLE BARKER 






G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 

Gbe fmicfterbocfter jpress 

1919 



* *. 






Copyright, 1919 

BY 

HELEN GRANVILLE BARKER 



Ube Ifcmcfecrbocfeer press, "Ucw Jgorfe 

uto io i 9 19 

©C1.A536976 



t 

(JX 



NOTE 

Some of these verses have been pub- 
lished in other books of mine, which are 
now, however, out of print. 

H. G. B. 



CONTENTS 






PAGE 


The Princess's Garden 


3 


The Princess .... 


5 


The Narrow Glass 


6 


To Snow ..... 


8 


Araceli 


10 


The Garden on the Hill . 


ii 


The Brides .... 


13 


The Wayfarer .... 


15 


The Playmate .... 


16 


The Adorning .... 


19 


October 


20 


Lost Gardens . ... 


22 


The Owls 


24 


On the River .... 


26 


Songs of the Rain and the Wind 


• 27 


The Well of Truth . 


29 


In Winter ..... 


• 30 


The Star 


• 3i 


The Forbidden Garden 


32 









PAGE 


Teresa 35 


The Unseen Garden . 






36 


Snow in May 






38 


The Poet . 






39 


In the Wilderness 






40 


Land .... 






43 


Cecilia 






44 


The Mirror 






45 


The Orchard 






46 


Distant Gardens 






47 


The Doll . 






49 


November Flowers 






5i 


The Captive Butterfly 






53 


A Prayer for Esther 






54 


Unity .... 






56 


Laura and I in a Meadow 




58 


A Spanish Girl's Love Song 




60 


Myra 




61 


The Last Hour . 






63 


Confession 






64 


The House . 






69 


The Portrait 






7i 


The Genet . 






7^ 











PAGE 


The Two Old Grandfathers . . 75 


Night, and the Curtains Drawn 78 


Midnight 


80 


Beyond Knowledge 








81 


Hester 








83 


Love . 








85 


A Man Speaks . 








87 


A Lifetime 








88 


The Canary 








89 


Old Age 








90 


The Artist . 








9i 


The Instrument . 








92 


In Spain 








93 


Inspiration . 








95 


Lovers 








97 


Twilight 








98 


The New Parrakeet 








100 


The Cat 








102 


The Nurse . 








104 


To an Old Friend 








106 


The Closed Account 








107 


To Fire 








108 


Audrey 








in 











PAGE 


The Old Age of Geraldine 113 


The Stranger in the City 




114 


The Statue 




Il6 


The City . 








119 


The Mandolin 








121 


Ambition 








123 


Iris 








125 


Harvest of Dreams 








127 


Celia . 








129 


The Star Sapphire 








130 


A Prayer . 








131 



Songs in Gardens 



THE PRINCESS'S GARDEN 

PRINCESS, there are lilies in your 
garden, 
Stately lilies, white as candles burning, 
Roses, and the yellow helianthus, 

Restless, toward the sun forever 
turning. 

Down the blue-tiled walks your feet may 
wander, 
Where the rose-beaked parrots lean 
and listen, 
Where the fountains plash in marble 
basins 
And the fragrant water-lilies glisten. 
3 



Shade is cool for you and moons are 
golden, 
Tropic flowers for your delight are 
planted, 
Song birds, hidden in the tangled thick- 
ets, 
Fill the air with melodies enchanted. 



I 



THE PRINCESS 

WOULD give my parrakeets and 

roses, 

All my lilies, all my silver fountains, 
All my blue-tiled walks and hidden song- 
birds, 
All the exotic flowers from fields and 
mountains, 



For one wild grape spray that grows, 
untended, 
Quite beyond your ken, oh cunning 
warden ; 
For one wild grape spray — that's sway- 
ing lightly 
Just outside the wall that ends my 
garden. 



THE NARROW GLASS 

FROM out my bed, no park nor grass 
I saw, nor shore, nor neighboring 
hall; 
But, facing, on the panelled wall 
There hung a narrow looking-glass. 

In long-forgotten days it knew 
The transient shades that bore my 

name; 
Upon its antiquated frame 

Two crested wrens were done in blue. 

At early dawn, reflected pale, 

A strip of far-ofl Sound shone bright, 
And oftentimes, from left to right, 

There passed a little, rosy sail, 
6 



Which I, just waked, in drowsy ease, 
Would watch with wonderment, as if 
I looked upon some fairy skiff, 

Afloat on legendary seas. 



TO SNOW 

STRANGE divinity of snow, 
Eager other worlds to know, 
Spotless spirit, not of earth, 
What wild power invoked thy birth? 

Wind-blown from the clouds on high, 
Alien from the brooding sky, 
Thou descendest, silent, free, 
Visitant of mystery. 

Thou hast known, untouched by bliss, 
Radiant dawns with rose-flushed kiss, 
Passion of the moons that waned 
Left thee pallid but unstained. 
8 



From the naked trees down cast, 
Stirred within the icy blast, 
Subtile shadows, fair, untrue, 
Woo thee with ethereal blue. 

All the stars to thee have told 
Rapture of eternal cold, 
All the silent, ice-bound streams 
Made thee keeper of their dreams. 

Phantom victor over all 
Robed in white, resplendent pall. 
Mighty in thy shining power, 
Dazzling vision of an hour. 

None thy mystery may know, 
As thou earnest thou must go. 
Fading god, by earth outworn, 
So in mist to heaven upborne. 



ARACELI 

IN golden Spain I learned to love, 
To iron England then I came ; 
And, lost within the weary crowd, 
I never speak that Southern name. 

Araceli! (Heaven's high place) — 
Too sad I've grown for names like 
these : 

They bring me dreams of Seville's courts, 
Blue fountains, birds and orange trees. 



10 



THE GARDEN ON THE HILL 

ARE there still roses 
In the garden on the hill? 
Is the West wind blowing still 
Through daisies and asters? 

Has a frost blackened 

All the heliotrope's deep blue? 

Or are borders where it grew 
Still heavy with fragrance? 

By the sheltering wall 

Does a tall delphinium lean 
To the dial on the green, 

Where suns write in passing? 
ii 



Is a nightingale's song 

Heard before the break of dawn 
From the cypress on the lawn, 

Till the wood-pigeons waken ? 

There is no answer! 

Only silence, and the sea, 
Between here and Italy, 

That garden and hill-top. 



12 



THE BRIDES 

WITHIN this formal garden plot 
White flowers may grow alone. 
'Tis like a chapel, privet-walled, 
Where bees the mass intone. 

And through the calm, secluded aisle 

By sun or moon lit hours, 
They pass, in meek, unconscious grace, 

Processions of the flowers. 

Like brides, in dress of snowy white, 

All virginal and fair, 
They come to wed the summer days 

Mid incense-laden air. 
13 



The childlike crocus of the Spring 
Tells here her marriage vows, 

And here the pallid hyacinth 
Most reverently bows. 

Each day proclaims a flower most fair; 

For one would wed the rose, 
And one the shy anemone 

The frailest bud that grows. 

And so the candid brides appear 
And charm their fleeting while, 

Till Autumn sweeps the chapel bare 
With empty, wind-blown aisle. 



H 



THE WAYFARER 

1WILL reach far down in the pit of 
sorrow 

And gather song, 
With the bitter past I will deck to- 
morrow. 

I will turn no cowardly look behind me 

But still fare on 
Till the glow of ultimate joy shall blind 
me; 

For I ask no blessing and no forgiving, 

The gain was mine. 
Since I learned from all things the truth 
of living. 



15 



THE PLAYMATE 

WHEN I was a little sober child 
Sitting quiet, in a sheltered 
corner, 
I heard someone calling; 
Then there came a sound of racing foot- 
steps 
And a wild sweet face 
Looked in upon me. 
I saw eyes of wonder, 
Lips of magic, 

And was frightened in my quiet corner, 
(Frightened — but enchanted) 
"Tell your name to me," at last I 

whispered. 
"Have you come to be a playmate?" 
16 



But she never answered me, nor pleaded, 
Only tossed her hair 
And smiled and beckoned. 
What could I but follow! 
So she led me on 
To gay adventures, 

Laughter and delight and childish mad- 
ness. 



Then there came a time 
When playing irked me. 
I grew tired and longed for tranquil 

pleasures. 
"Leave me now," I said, 
"Too long you've teased me!" 
She never answered. 
Then, with doubting question, 
I looked deep within her eyes 
(Beloved playmate!) 
17 



What I saw there made me fall a-weeping 

Shadowy things I saw — 

And pain and sorrow. 

"We must part, before too late!" 

I told her. 

But she whispered with her lips of 

magic, — 
Breath like Spring 
Upon my cheek and forehead; 
"I can never leave you — 
Never leave you. " 



18 



THE ADORNING 

FIRE ! give me of your flame 
Of purest heat ! 
Rose, lend to me your breath 

Divinely sweet! 
Star, make me fair as thou 

In skies above ! 
So may I venture forth 
To meet my Love. 



19 



OCTOBER 

NOT happiness, nor pain, 
But just a moment's rest from 
care 
A brief indifference to loss or gain. 

'Tis good, the Summer done, 
To cease a while from torturing endeavor 
And sit here, passive, in the golden sun; 

Just conscious of the sound 
Of buzzing wasps, the smell of russet 

apples, 
The dead leaves dropping, silent, to the 
ground, 

20 



The call, melodious, harsh, 
Of circling rooks ; the soft October sky ; 
The blue tide rippling in across the 
marsh. 

Assuagement now I find ; 
Oh, fragrant world of land and sky and 

sea — 
More near to me than man, be now more 

kind! 



21 



LOST GARDENS 

LOST to me forever more 
The golden broom that blazed 
along the shore 
And flaunted brave in all the salt June 
sweetness. 

Roses, in their bed of mould, 
Where clipped box-hedges bound them 

once of old, 
No more shed velvet leaves from their 

completeness. 

Where mint and rosemary grew, 
Sweet-basil, fennel, lavender and rue, 
The leaves are trodden low — to ravage 
bidden. 

22 



Immaculate and fair — 
The walled white garden blooms no 

longer there; 
Lily and phlox and flag in earth are 

hidden. 

I trod those flowery ways alone; 
The first wild joy of Spring was all my 

own, 
Frail cobwebs shone for me in dewy 

morning ; 

The still pond was my looking-glass, 
Ringed round with iris, moss and meadow- 
grass, — 
To-day whose pale reflection is it 
scorning ? 



23 



T 



THE OWLS 

'HREE little feathery owls flew over- 
head 
As I walked down the frozen garden 

path; 
One on the chestnut lit, one chose the 

pine, 
And one a twisted pear-tree, bare and 

brown. 

There in the garden it was still as death ; 
Beyond the wintry meadows glowed 

the west, 
Rose that receded swiftly into gray ; 
The little owls and I seemed all that 

lived. 

24 



Softly I tiptoed near the chestnut tree, 
Two little, shining, curious eyes looked 

out; 
And from the pear-tree two, and from 

the pine; 
I fancied for the moment we were 

friends. 



25 



ON THE RIVER 

THE forest is flame on either side. 
The misty, far-off mountains, 
Like iridescent bubbles, 
Seem tossed against the sky. 

A myriad tiny, pointed leaves, 
All rose and red and amber, 
Along the dusky river 
Float noiselessly and slow. 

Oh, infinite beauty, fade and die! 
Of all the Autumn glory 
I only shall remember 
This argosy of leaves. 



26 



SONGS OF THE RAIN AND THE 
WIND 

FROM the sleep of fever 
I wake with a start 
And a sudden rapture. 
Outside, in the night, 
(O God! the grace 
These short hours bring to me) 
Is my friend, the rain, 
Come to sing to me. 
Songs of far-off places, 
The grass up-springing, 
(Dear familiar places!) 
The smell of earth-mould, 
Salt marshes, drifting sea-fog 
And pine-boughs glistening; 
27 



Of these the rain sings softly 
While I am listening. 

So, when I He awake 

In the prison of fever 

The wind comes to sing to me, — 

My old companion — 

Outside in the night he sings, 

His song is for me only, 

For all of the world's asleep, 

And I, in the dark, am lonely. 

Songs of the storm he sings 
And snow-flakes drifting, 
Wide fields where once I wandered, 
And circling sea-gulls. 
He journeys free — the Wind — 
What's South or North to him! 
He sings till, in weariness, 
My soul goes forth to him. 
28 



THE WELL OF TRUTH 

WHY lean so long above the well 
And strain your eyes within? 
The west is rose, sweet Isabel, 
The night will soon begin. 

The sun is gold as golden sheaves, 

The Autumn sky is pale. 
The yellow, yellow Autumn leaves 

Skim down upon the gale. 

"I lean so long above the well 

Because there lies within 
One hated good," said Isabel; 

"And one delightful sin." 



29 



IN WINTER 

SHE died, quite suddenly, at morn. 
I, weeping, fled that house of woe 
To find without, in paths forlorn, 
Her little footprints in the snow. 



30 



THE STAR 

THE star danced in the lake, 
Uncertain, tremulous, 
Deep in the heart of the lake 
The star danced. 

But far, far in the sky 

Serene, unchangeable, 
Fixed as the spirit of love 

The star shone. 



3i 



THE FORBIDDEN GARDEN 

WITHIN the room for little girls 
Long time the little girl abode 
And there were many pretty toys 
And shining chains and rings and 

sweets, 
And picture books and puzzling games, 
And blue-eyed dolls to dress and tend — 
There played the other little girls — 
The room was full of soft delights. 

The little girl was not content 
Within the warm and sheltered room, 
She dreamed of gardens all the day. 
In dreams at night she saw them still; 
32 



The wide, far-reaching garden walks 
Where never little girl had trod, 
The velvet grass, the rosy flowers, 
The garden's fragrant secrecy. 

One day the door was open wide, 
The little girl went out alone — 
How long she wandered no one knew. 
The other little girls played on. 
At last there came an afternoon 
When, looking up, amidst their games, 
They saw a child appear, and knew 
Their little playmate had come home. 

And now, once more, the little girl 
Seems quite content with dolls and 

sweets. 
But, ah ! her secret thoughts by day 
Her evil, haunting dreams at night! 

3 33 



For still she sees the garden walks 
Where never little girls should tread, 
The sliding snakes, the flaunting flowers 
The garden's awful secrecy. 



34 



TERESA 

AS walking through a country lane, 
Teresa leaves a scrap of lace, 
Thorn-captured, ever to remain 
Of. passing loveliness a trace. 

So in each place where she may dwell 
A month, a week, or but a day, 

She leaves a bit of self, to tell 
Its story when she's far away. 



35 



THE UNSEEN GARDEN 

THE song of the unseen garden ; 
Beyond the crumbling wall, 
Comes wistfully all the day time; 

When evening shadows fall 
Its murmurous strain, unceasing 

Sounds still in palms and pines, 
And the wind of the Lombard Summer 
Stirs soft among the vines. 

The breath of the unseen garden 
Is more than thyme, or box, 

Than jasmine, or orange blossom, 
Or the clustered purple phlox ; 

36 



More than the scent of lilies, 

Or the rose the moon has kissed; — 

'Tis the dream that evades remem- 
brance, 
The joy forever missed. 



37 



SNOW IN MAY 

1HAVE vanquished the law of the 
hours 
And broken the bars of Spring : 
White I came to the whiter flowers, 
And a word from the clouds I bring. 

To die on a hyacinth's breast, 
And quench my longing there, 

Untimely storm has heard my behest 
I have conquered the paths of air. 

Softer than wing of the moth, 
Lighter than kiss of the bee, 

I touch her petals in lover's troth, 
And perish in ecstasy. 



38 



THE POET 

DISTRAUGHT, half-puzzled by the 
doors that close 
Abruptly in his face, 
Bewildered where the tide of traffic 
flows; 
Like one of other race: 

Unmindful of the hours or of the day, 

Or those who mock afar, 
He dreams forever of the rose in May 

He sees the evening star ! 



39 



o 



IN THE WILDERNESS 

NE windless morning, up where the 
Lake is lonely 

I paddled slowly, looking for water- 
lilies. 

When I saw them, deep in the cool blue 
water 

I thrust my hand, the silvery stems up- 
rooting. 

Mine at last! and a sun-flushed face I 
buried 

Deep in fragrance, waxen and snowy- 
petalled. 

Golden-hearted, liliesforSultan'sladies,— 

Drugging my senses to a dull oblivion! 
40 



At noon, among the ferns and the 
bracken sitting, 

Where the forest lane is warm in Sep- 
tember sunshine, 

Near the path where moccasin flowers 
are growing, 

Where fire-weed burns, and blackberry 
vines cling, strangling, 

Round the straight and slender trunks of 
■ the saplings ; 

There came, unbidden, stealing away 
my spirit, 

A sense of life, — it seemed its evasive secret 

Was mine an instant — there in the 
flashing sunshine. 

Between the tall, black branches of forest 

pine-trees 
I saw, at night, the stars in their calm 

celestial ; 

41 



Too cold they seemed, too pure to be 
apprehended, 

Too fair they shone there — caught in 
the pine-tree branches. 

With beating heart I went to the fire-lit 
cabin, 

I could not look unmoved, upon those 
shining 

Midnight stars, for clear in their change- 
less glory, 

I read of love — its need of infinite 
heavens. 



42 



LAND 

BACK to my mother, the Earth, 
From that stranger, the Sea; 
Deep in the hills to have birth, 

In the fields to be free; 
Free from the fretting of wave, 

From the hissing of foam, 
And fears of a fathomless grave; 
I am home, I am home! 

Peace of the islands once more, 

With the scent of the sod, 
Dwellings of men on the shore, 

And the forests of God. 
Safe from the dread of the deep, 

From its drunken embrace, 
Earth, in your arms I may sleep ! 

I am back in my place. 



43 



I 



CECILIA 

HEEDED not the bursting of the 

buds, 
Nor yet returning swallows on the 

wing, 
Nor yet the longer afternoons — but 

then 
Cecilia passed; and then I knew 'twas 

Spring. 



44 



THE MIRROR 

1 LOOKED in my eyes 
And there saw, hovering, 
The frightened ghost of childhood — 
"Woman, Stranger," it whispered; 
"Remember me, among the dandelions, 
So eager, soft and dutiful, 
So full of dreams — 
What of you, sweet, tall one?" 
I was silent. 

I could not speak to the little innocent 
ghost. 



45 



THE ORCHARD 

THE orchard grows beside the Sound. 
In Spring I see its flowering trees 
Against the waters, wide' and blue, 
That ripple in the April breeze. 

And when in Autumn, gold and red, 
The apples hang on every side 

Their fragrance mingles with the fresh 
Delicious saltness of the tide. 



4 6 



DISTANT GARDENS 

THOUGH tossed on foreign seas 
At stormy gloaming, 
Beneath New England trees 
My thoughts are roaming. 

Below an azure sky 

A park lies dreaming, 
And there my gardens lie, 

With Summer gleaming. 

The garden warm with noon 

And sweet with roses; 
A red rose falls, and soon 

A white uncloses. 
47 



The garden, walled and old, 
Where white flowers only 

Drink deep the moonlight cold 
On midnights lonely. 

The garden near the coast 
Where broom is golden, 

And sunflowers flaunt and boast, 
To suns beholden. 

I fear no sea-worn hours 
When dreams can capture 

From distant ways of flowers 
An earth-born rapture. 



48 



THE DOLL 

IN taffeta and silver lace 
The doll (that was myself) I dressed, 
I pinned a rose upon her breast 
And left her in a gilded chair. 

A tried, mechanic toy; I knew 
Of old, that she could do and say 
All shallow things in shallow way : 

Then I fled swiftly from her ken. 

Pale magic of December cold 

Bound all the wood; and overhead 

A net of star-filled skies was spread 

About the pathway of the wind. 
4 49 



Moon-shadows lay where, white and 
pure, 

The snow on rounded hill-top gleamed ; 

And all that winter beauty seemed 
To breathe an ardent breath of June. 

When I rejoined that smiling doll ! 
One whispered, discontented word 
Within her ear was all I heard; 

"How silent you have been to-night!" 



50 



NOVEMBER FLOWERS 

A RED rose hung on its stem 
In my dying garden. 
"Why are you here in November, 

Rose?" I said. 

All around was silence and brown leaves 

mouldering, 
Burned box hedges and naked branches. 
But the one rose glowed in beauty 

And seemed to whisper: 
"To bring you thoughts of June." 

1 found a honeysuckle 

On a high wall blowing. 
"Why are you here in November, 
Honeysuckle?" I said. 
5i 



Fragrance reached me, heavy as incense 

smouldering, 
The curled leaf -tendrils in joyance 

quivered, 
And again, as if enchanted, 

I heard the whisper : 
"To bring you thoughts of June." 



52 



THE CAPTIVE BUTTERFLY 

IF I lie quite still in their net 
Good fortune may befall — 
They may think it was only a moth they 
caught — 
No butterfly at all ! 

But if once they learn of the blue 

And purple of my wings, 
And their flash, when the rays of the 

noonday sun 
Light all their golden rings ; 

If once they know me the love 
Of the rose that sheltered me, 

And the playmate of all the garden 
flowers, — 
They will never set me free. 



53 



A PRAYER FOR ESTHER 

AS linden trees within a Summer 
garden 
Where all's in fair accord, 
Baptized with sun and dew, with bird 
songs joyous 
So let her live, oh Lord ! 

As river, holding fast the changing 
glories 
Of sunset, night and morn, 
Enriched with flights of dragon-fly and 
swallow : — 
So, Lord, her heart adorn! 

Preserve her mind a harp to all emotion, 
Itself, perhaps, as nought, 
54 



But finely tuned, and instant in vibra- 
tion 
To every holy thought. 

So may she live, at one with earth's 
bestowing 
In every joyous breath; 
And pass, triumphantly, the cloudy 
barrier 
That severs life from death. 



55 



UNITY 

AM one with the blade of grass and the 
giant tree, 
The birds and the flowers and roots are a 
part of me. 



I 



In vain within this, myself, have I 

sought my soul, 
It is absent, yet here, mere point in a 

mighty whole. 

The beasts, in their strange and slug- 
gishly-worn disguise 

Pass by — and I see my soul is within 
their eyes. 

56 



For the wisest of men is twin to the 

earthy clod, 
All Life is but one; the unity — Thou — 

OGod! 



57 



LAURA AND I IN A MEADOW 

LAURA, look at the shining grasses 
Here where the south wind blows ! 
Thronging the meadow, frail but insist- 
ent, 
Staining it purple and rose. 

Still the midsummer all around us, 

Misty the air — and sweet, 
Waves of wind flow over the grasses 

Seeming to break at your feet. 

Star-like daisies and flax are smothered 

All in this jungle of grass; 
A net of wiry stems would entangle 

Your feet, if you ventured to pass. 

58 



But above the bees and butterflies 
hover 
Lightly on grasses and flowers — 
If we knew only this summer meadow 
What knowledge and joy would be 
ours! 



59 



A SPANISH GIRL'S LOVE SONG 

WHAT is warm in my veins like the 
sun in September; 
What swings me remote as the rose 

cloud above; 
What is yours to forget that is mine to 
remember ? 
It is love, Rafael, it is love! 



60 



H 



MYRA 

ER soul is a garden ; 

In formal beds its fairest roses 
, blow; 
Some vanished hand has made gera- 
niums grow, 
And scentless orchids. 

Once pruned and tended, 
And trained in stiffly-charming, old- 
time bowers, 
They riot now — the frail and careless 
flowers 
That bud and perish. 
61 



At night, in the silence, 
Perhaps a nightingale his heart may- 
sing, 
Or furry bat, on webbed, fantastic 
wing, 
Wheel near the lilies. 

Walled is the garden, 
And he who seeks to enter comes too 

late, 
For chained and bolted stands the iron 
gate, 
With ivy strangled. 



62 



THE LAST HOUR 

WITH rocking trees and slanting 
sun the very last hour dies 
On golden marsh and sea profoundly- 
blue, in rose-hued skies. 
My heart is restless, like the sea, and 

stormy, like the wind. 
Will love go with us, Barbara, or leave 
we love behind? 

Oh, hour that stings with cold! Oh, 

hour that woos with golden glow, 
That blinds with jewelled splendour of 

wave and cloud and snow! 
Oh, hour supreme! — when once your 

bright December sun has set, 
Will love be ours to hold, Beloved, or 

only to forget ? 



63 



CONFESSION 

MY joys I seek by lonely seas, 
My friends among the ferns- 
The wind absorbs my coquetries, 
The rose my love returns. 

The heaven of my hopes will be 

(If God such fate decrees) 
To give my life to roots and seeds 

And live again in trees. 

But if the burden of my Self 

I must forever bear, 
Oh, let it be by hidden streams 

In heavenly meadows fair; 

6 4 



In fields which neither cherubim 
Nor saints, nor angels know; 

Where daisies star the undying grass, 
And changeless poppies blow ! 



65 



Songs in Cities 



67 



THE HOUSE 

SMALL the house, too small for an 
adventurer ! — 
(In it I was born, and here must die) 
From it I but see the habitations 

Of. my neighbours, roofs beneath a sky ! 

If I lean without, at window hazarding, 
Curious unfriendly glances shine ; 

(Such a paltry place I am inhabiting. 
Such pretence of keeping house is 
mine !) 

Prisoned so, a householder unworthy, 
Discontented, still I keep the trust 

Left to me by older generations : — 
Mine this house until it falls in dust. 
69 



Dreams have come to me of space 

unlimited — 

Trackless meadows where the flowers 

shine fair — 

Day and night I long to be a wanderer, 

Free to breathe the taintless outer air. 



70 



THE PORTRAIT 

A HUNDRED years ago I faintly 
smiled 
Upon a world I sought, yet half dis- 
dained, 
Upon the loves I prompted, but be- 
guiled, 
(Too wise to yield, too proud to walk 
enchained). 

I wrapped myself in artful mysteries 
Lest any dare interrogate my soul 
With bold, too-searching gaze; I wan- 
dered free, 
Giving but half where others give 
the whole. 

7i 



But art divined my secret; with its 
skill 
It made my painted prison — here I 
stand, 
For every rake forever more to gloat. 
For every imbecile to understand ! 



72 



THE GENET 

JUNGLE sights and sounds and smells 
near the London street ! 
There I walked as in a dream, wearied 

with the heat. 
Scores of fierce, indifferent eyes watched, 

in helpless rage, 
For a liberator's foot and an opened cage. 

Then I saw a drooping head, pensive but 
alert, 

And a smooth and spotted shape, sinu- 
ous, inert. 

Meek white marks beneath her eyes, 
pricked and pointed ear. 

(This was no mere stranger cat!) and I 
seemed to hear, 
73 



In some way I once had learned in an 

age forgot, 
With some sense untrained, disused, till 

I knew it not, 
Swift inquiry sent to me from a savage 

heart : 
''Sister, how did you and I grow so far 

apart?" 



74 



THE TWO OLD GRANDFATHERS 

MY two old grandfathers sat before 
New England houses 
And looked over the fields of grain and 

wheat, 
The apple-orchards, the pastures, the 

woods and copses, 
The swamp land where cattle-prints 

showed in a black ooze, 
The stony hillside where sheep nibbled, 
And my two old grandfathers thought 
their silent thoughts. 

One, gentle, humble, patient, meditated 
On the love of God for men, his children ; 
On the peace of a certain eternity, 
75 



The death of self, the brotherhood of 

man; 
On pain as a teacher, and the beauty of 

holiness 
And meek submission to unquestioned 

creeds. 



The other, keen, scoffing, courageous, 
Dared to defy the minds of those around 

him. 
Protested, not by words but independent 

deeds 
Against the blind intolerance of fools, 
Read his Voltaire to sound of Sunday 

church-bells, 
Smiled to himself, sitting alone, unasked 

for, 
At the disfavour of men — its weight and 

value. 

76 



Here am I — my hands full of the spoils 
of cities — 

My brain puzzled by creeds and theo- 
ries, 

Groping, bewildered, for truth and 
justice. 

I try to free myself, to rise above con- 
ditions, 

To think my own thoughts, careless and 
untrammelled — 
But the thoughts of those two old 

grandfathers 
(Sitting alone before New England 
houses), 

Sway, alternately, my inner vision. 

I am held and hampered by conflicting 
forces. 



77 



NIGHT, AND THE CURTAINS 
DRAWN 

NIGHT, and the curtains drawn, 
The household still, 
Fate, with appointed strength 
Has worked its w T ill. 

Close to the dying blaze 

We sit alone; 
Nought but the old days lost, 

All else — our own. 

Far in the corners dim 

The shadows start; 
Near to your strength I cling, 

And near your heart. 
78 



Dearest — the whole world ends- 
Ends well — in this; 

Night, and the firelit dark, 
Your touch, your kiss. 



79 



MIDNIGHT 

1LIE awake and watch the misty snow 
Blown wide in dazzling whirls 
Through which the street-lights shine; 
the windows glow 
Like great rose-tinted pearls. 

The Northern wind is now abroad; and 
roars, 
In slow and measured sweep, 
Like surf that beats, tumultuous, on the 
shores. 
To-night I cannot sleep, 

For hark ! intangible, and unafraid, 

The Future faintly calls 
Like overtones from carven bells of jade 

Enshrined in silent halls. 



80 



BEYOND KNOWLEDGE 

ELOVED, once your pale and 
flower-like face, 
Smiled suddenly in London's crowded 
space, 



B 



A pleading vision, dreams within your 

eyes, 
And love upon your lips, in half-disguise. 



You, whom I loved despite of all your 

fears, 
Within whose grave lie lost my golden 

years, 

Could I but know that all with you is 

peace, 
Perhaps this agony of loss would cease. 

6 81 



Oh sweet! Oh, wistful, long-remem- 
bered, lost! 

What dread frontier those timid feet 
have crossed ! 

In some far heaven, is your smile less 

sad? 
And has your little shrinking soul grown 

glad? 



82 



T 



HESTER 

"HE richest joy of all her life had 
missed, 

The deepest griefs had ever passed her 

by, 
Her feeble search for good found little 

spoil, 
The hands which wrought no evil quiet lie. 

Exceeding beauty never crowned her 

here, 
Not love, but only dreams, within her 

eyes, 
How great seems now the worth of all 

you missed? 
Poor Heart! so childish once, and now 

so wise? 

83 



Not tender, quite, in all her brief gray 
life, 

And yet with passing moods sometimes 
so sweet. 

Oh, friend, for whom fulfillment never 
came 

In life, was death decisive and com- 
plete? 



84 



L 



LOVE 

TTLE darling, I love you so, 
I watch, at every cruel word's 
surprise, 
The mist steal slowly to your scornful 

. eyes, 
The hot red colour sweep across your 

cheek, 
I see you tremble, grow more worn and 
weak — 

Little darling, I love you so ! 
What joy to know I have within my 

will 
Such force to hurt, such potency to 
kill 

85 



You, frail and small, unloving, still I 

hold 
Mine, mine, to torture till your years 

are told. 



86 



A MAN SPEAKS 

OUR little, rose-soft sisters, — 
With laughing lips and tender 
eyes, 
Our sisters — made of dew and flame, 

Of sunlight, snow, and starlit skies, 
Drift on — for ever more the same. 

Our little foolish sisters, — 

Created fair, that love be born, 

And then to pain and torment hurled ; 
To first allure, and then, forlorn 

And puzzled, face an iron world. 

Our little broken sisters, — 

Too frail to meet their evil chance, 
Who made them fair enough for love 

But all too weak for circumstance ? — 
The cry from earth to God above! 



87 



A LIFETIME 

A MONTH ago began my life, 
And yesterday I died — 
I know what life can hide 
Of bliss, of agony, of strife. 

A month ago I heard them tell 
Your name, till then unknown, 
And now the month has flown:— 

Last night we said farewell. 



88 



M 



THE CANARY 

Y little yellow bird within his 
Chinese cage, 

That's carved with mandarins and twin- 
ing bloom, 

Pecks, greedy and alert, a fresh green 
lettuce leaf; 

Then, spying me, as I come in the room, 

He cocks a shining head and, hopping on 
his swing, 

He greets me with a shrill and friendly 
tune. 

The morning sunshine slants through 
latticed window blinds; 

So, for us both, begins a day in June! 



8 9 



OLD AGE 

1HAVE finished the rose days of love 
And the white days of youth — 
I have come, by the road of Desire, 
To the gray land of Truth. 

And the laughter and anguish are one, 

In the shadow of sleep, 
I murmur of love — " Did I blush?" 

And of pain — ''Did I weep?" 



90 



THE ARTIST 

ONE word — the finished line ; 
One sound — a perfect chord 
One touch — the tints combine. 

Alas! a futile quest, 

The work imperfect still, 
The end ill-gotten rest. 

O Art — forever veiled ! 

O Truth ! — forever dim ! — 
And feeble hand — that failed. 



91 



THE INSTRUMENT 

MY body in the dim, refracting lens 
Through which alone can know- 
ledge come to me, 
With these poor eyes alone my mind 

can see, 
Through this weak frame alone it 
comprehends. 

Were I but furnished with an instru- 
ment 

Which perfectly transmitted shape and 
sound, 

I might go far beyond our present 
bound, 

See Truth indeed, and learn what 
Beauty meant. 



92 



IN SPAIN 

IN Spain the air grows languorous 
The suns more hotly burn 
And swallows wheel and turn 
Above the worn, cathedral walls. 

Along the burning roads of Spain 
No traveller makes haste, 
Red faja round his waist 

A drowsy muleteer may pass. 

At night, within the city gates, 
The shops are like a fair, 
Strange odours fill the air 

Of saffron, anisette, and musk. 
93 



Then, noisily, a shuffling crowd 
Strolls up and down the street 
Bold eyes with bolder meet — 

To hide again behind a painted fan. 

In Spain, when pallid morning comes 
The bells swing wide for mass, 
And black-veiled women pass 

Stealthy and swift along the cobble- 
stones. 

So long away ! yet one forgets 

The intervening years; 

For you these secret tears 
Oh land of prayers and music and 
disdain. 



94 



INSPIRATION 

WAS there no single word you wished 
to say, 
O unforgotten dead, 
Ere yet you paused, and fled? 
Some word unspoken on that final day, 
Forever, now, unsaid:* 

I sit alone on this September night, 
With useless, idle pen, 
O — wise beyond our ken ! 
For you I wait, soul that took your 
flight, 
Beyond the world of men ! 
95 



My mind is yours, your purpose to ful- 
fill 

And yours this mortal hand; 

I wait and understand — 
All my endeavor meets your spirit will, 

I write what you command. 



9 6 



LOVERS 

ONE waited, Age, the lover. 
Till Alice could be won 
His hour would time discover, 

The hour when youth was done; 
fragrant, warm and tender, 
Rose lips and hair of gold, 
To Age must all surrender, 
And Age will clasp and hold. 

But waited lover stronger, 

And over-bold and free. 
11 My love shall guard you longer 

Than all eternity!" 
He spoke to Alice slowly, 

He kissed away her breath 
She turned from Age, unholy, 

And fled away with Death. 



97 



TWILIGHT 

THE Avenue is heaped with drifts 
Of fallen snow, 
In driven icy mist the flakes 
Of crystal blow; 

And lines of muffled passers-by, 

Like mourners black, 
Move silent, stiff with cold, along 

A shovelled track. 

Within, the air breathes roses, long 

In spices laid; 
The firelight shines on lacquered wood 

And old brocade. 
98 



I see my image in the glass 

So still, so lone, 
It might be painted on a screen, 

Or carved in stone. 

Life, let me leave this scented room 

And wander free ' 
And know one hour of cold and dark 

And liberty ! 



99 



THE NEW PARRAKEET 

HIS little neck is ringed with rose, 
His narrow tail is blue of dye; 
He clambers upside down, and spreads 
The clipped, green wings that cannot 
fly. 

Then, motionless upon his perch, 

He stares with round, unmeaning eye; 

Uneasily I meet his gaze, 

His soul to mine makes no reply. 

In what bright tropic was his birth ? 

What silent forest choked with green, 
What giant flowers, what sliding snakes, 
Have those round eyes unheeding 
seen? 

ioo 



What tossing oceans did he cross 
To take up residence with me ? 

To live his lifetime near my side, 
An alien and a mystery ! 



IOI 



THE CAT 

LIKE caryatid, still as stone, 
And black as ebony, the cat 
(Her tail around her toes curled flat) 
Sits upright on a cushioned throne. 

Benign and innocently wise 

She looks; no thrills her whiskers 
stir, 

As glossy as a leaf her fur, 
As pale as moons her yellow eyes. 

But I have seen her leave the house 
All evilly, at early dawn, 
To consummate, upon the lawn, 

The murder of a young field-mouse. 

102 



And when we sleep in chamber bounds 
I know she pads from floor to floor 
And hears the landing clock strike 
four 

While still on her uncanny rounds. 



103 



THE NURSE 

SOMETIMES, when after endless 
days of pain, 

Our cries have grown too faint to reach 
to God, 

When the great solitudes of heaven's 
peace 

Re-echo back to us our shrill despair, 

Then comes the tolerant and aged 
World, 

And lifts us up upon her ample knees, 

Murmurs within our ears her foolish 
tales, 

And fills our hands with bright futili- 
ties. 

104 



We know her false and trivial and vain, 

Absorbed in senile schemes and crude 
display; 

Yet, for a time, her presence eases 
care; 

A fond old nurse she seems, exacting 
nought 

But pretty ways, and mock obedi- 
ence; 

She knows no ills her favour may not 
cure, 

So, looking up within that mellow 
face, 

We force a smile and find forgetfulness. 



05 



TO AN OLD FRIEND 

IF I knew 'twas the very day 
Oh, friend, so far away, 
What thing could I find to say ? 

If I knew, that, in one more night, 
The world would pass from sight, 
What word should I dare to write? 

Yes, though the hour had come, 

My lips would still be dumb ; — 
I should die as I lived, in sum. 

I should pass from my place below, 

The years would come and go, 
Dear friend, you would never know! 



106 



THE CLOSED ACCOUNT 

GOD, I deliver up the arms 
You furnished me at the start 
With which to conquer a mighty world 
Here is the cowardly heart ; 

Here is the feeble, woman mind, 
And the body, frail and small; 

Here are the senses, subtly keen; 
(I render account of all) 

Here is the pride that bade me fight, 
And the pride which wrought me woe, 

Now I have given count of all ; — 
Into my grave I go. 



107 



TO FIRE 

OFIRE, thou free one! 
Thou god unspoiled ! 
Attaining swiftly 

Where man has toiled, 
Thy formless glory 

No mind may see, 
Nor brooding fathom 
Thy mystery. 

Destroyer, Father, 

Creator, King, 
Thy raging beauty 

A living thing, 
In desolation, 

Bright wings unfurled, 
1 08 



Thy barren pathway 
Lies round the world. 

All foul corruptions 

Thou makest clean; 
In flame they vanish 

To space unseen ; 
The shames of nature, 

The taints of earth, 
By thee transfigured 

Know airy birth. 

O force supernal ! 

rose of heat ! 
Incarnate beauty, 

Unrest complete! 
Remote from knowledge 

Defying sense, 
Ah — whither speedest ? 

And comest — whence ? 
109 



More strange than jewels, 

More fierce than hate, 
Consummate wonder, 

Thy flames create 
O perfect passion ! 

great desire ! 
Receive my homage, 

Resistless Fire! 



no 



A 



AUDREY 

ND so, at last, the veil drops off 
our faces, 

The love you found too passionless and 
slight 
May lead you down to life's remotest 
spaces, 
May light you on till death's unbroken 
night. 

At this dim gate the love that you were 
scorning 
Stands, fragile still, but tender — if 
you knew! — 
You who must pass beyond all love's 
adorning, 
Beyond all strong and weak, all false 
and true. 

in 



Farewell! impatient lover, done with 
living, 
Receive my helpless tears where low 
you lie, 
Rest now — the pardoned — as, at last, 
forgiving. 
This is the very end of love — good- 
bye. 



112 



THE OLD AGE OF GERALDINE 

NOW days of love are over, 
Now dreaming days are done, 
Here waits no other lover 

But Death, the Silent one; 
Now beauty's overtaken 

And age usurps the days, 
Here love leaves life forsaken, 
Here's parting of the ways. 

From out my glass, in sadness, 

A ghost looks now at me, 
Its smile is rout and madness, 

Its eyes fatuity. 
It views me still, undaunted, 

Where fairer shade I've seen ; — 
A face that love once haunted, 

The face of Geraldine. 

s 113 



THE STRANGER IN THE CITY 

SOMETIMES among the weary 
timid faces 
I've learned as those of friends, 
The faces marked by cities for their 
uses, 
Their indeterminate ends, 
I see an elf-like smile and eyes of won- 
der, 
And know, with sudden start, 
A wanderer alien here, a joyous stran- 
ger 
From some bright land apart. 

Return! return! Beloved strayed from 
rapture, 
For hark ! from far away 
114 



Come sounds like wind-stirred leaves, 
like falling water, 
Like birds at break of day. 
They call you back — where none are sad, 
or strangers, 
And where no world-wrought bars, 
With screening pale of precepts inter- 
woven, 
Obscure the dancing stars. 



ii5 






THE STATUE 

WHEN last I drew the curtain 
The clock was striking ten. 
And groups of girls and men 
With voices shrill, uncertain, 
Went shuffling down the street. 
Before the cafe doors 
A world the day ignores 
Found night and laughter sweet. 

There sounded harsh and loud, 
The horns of passing cars ; 
Before the closed bazaars 

A juggler charmed a crowd. 

The dewy air, that woke 
A cool and leafy scent, 
116 



With human taints was blent, 
With trails of wine and smoke. 

And what with all that scene 
Tumultuous and strange 
My fancy could not range 

To seek what once had been — 

The past too vague had grown, 
The hour alone was good, 
On high the statue stood 

Forgotten and alone. 

But when the night was old, 

And sleepless still I lay, 

I rose and drew away 
The curtain — and behold ! 
There fell a sheet of rain 

Upon the sleeping earth ; 

Wiped out was all the mirth, 
And silence ruled again. 
117 



And through the silver haze 
The lights, a glory, shone 
Around the hero gone, 

The dead of other days 

Serene it triumphed there, 
The city's very own, 
In immemorial stone, 

The statue in the square. 



118 



THE CITY 

IRON and steel, immense, uncouth, 
resistless, 
Here is the Town ! 
Labour and traffic rule it, wealth and 
commerce 
Weave its renown. 

Mighty in power, deformed, unlovely, 
sordid, 
Soulless it seems; 
Come, O ye poets, artists, seers of 
visions, 
Deck it with dreams. 
119 



Crown it with rainbow images of won- 
der, 
Magic of art, 
Fruit of your brains and flower of all 
your fancy, 
Spoils of your heart. 

Fling o'er its towers fantastic clouds of 
legend 
And wild desires; 
Let it stand in the dawn and sunset, vast, 
triumphant 
Mid opal fires, 

Till it glows in the thoughts of men a 
thing of wonder, 
Queen of its own, 
Girt with its shining rivers — splendid, 
swordlike, 
Venice outgrown ! 

120 



H 



THE MANDOLIN 

ER soul was like a mandolin, 
inlaid 

With pearl and tortoise-shell and 
ivory ; 
On that slight instrument I sometimes 
made, 
In idleness, a tinkling melody. 

And often passers through the jostling 
throng 
Would stop to hear the ineffectual 
tune, — 
Half-sweet and half-perverse, — like in- 
sects' song 
That sounds the hot and drowsy spell 
of June. 

121 



But now, with strings unstrung, the 
mandolin 
Lies half -forgot ten : will there come a 
day 
When other fingers, placed where mine 
have been, 
Another worthless melody will play? 



122 



AMBITION 

1TOOK my little Love from her place 
so still and warm, 
And dragged her forth with me, just to 
keep her safe from harm. 

The woods were dense and black, and 
the way was rough and long, 

It mattered not a whit, for my little Love 
was strong. 

Just once, amid the dark, and the storm 

that followed after 
I heard a childish plea for rest and love 

and laughter. 

123 



"We may not stop our course!" I 

exclaimed, in eager pride; 
"What matters weariness and pain when 

we are side by side!" 

So dim it was and wild, with the rising 

wind and gale, 
I never knew at all that my Love was 

worn and pale. 

I never felt her droop, till she slipped 

from out my hold, 
I never knew she fell — till I saw her still 

and cold. 

And now I journey on, amid winter's 

snow and sleet, 
No little clinging hand to check, no little 

lagging feet. 

124 



IRIS 

NEVER a woman — you say ' 
Never a wife — 
Only the rose of a day, 
A dream in a life, 

Loved, and unconquered by love, 

Remote, in your arms, 
Eyes for some vision above, 

Deaf to alarms. 

Love me or not, as you will! 

Prison me fast, 
Mine is the victory still, 

Freedom at last. 
125 



Love, with its tremulous fire 

Burns in my heart 
Still from a lover's desire 

I tarry apart. 

Beauty the star of my sky 

Visions my own, 
Touched by all joys as they fly, 

Still I'm alone. 

Love is the loser, it seems, 

If to earth it belongs. 
I am a daughter of dreams. 

A mother of songs. 



126 



HARVEST OF DREAMS 

ARRAYED, as if for sepulchre, 
In shroud of woven mist, 
Within the narrow gate of night, 
A shape of dreams I kissed. 

» 
A love, born only of my dreams, 

And yet how rich am I ! 

I know the moon of joy that hangs 

In sleep's embracing sky. 

In cloudy, arrassed Courts, to hope 

And memory unknown, 
To pilgrims inaccessible, 

My heart received its own. 
127 



One instant's space (or was it years?) 
The ties of earth were vain ; 

One pulse beat (or perhaps a life !) 
And then I woke again. 



128 



CELIA 

HER fate to her was all surprise, 
She faced her tragic destiny 
With puzzled and pathetic eyes, — 
A butterfly blown out to sea. 



129 



THE STAR SAPPHIRE 

I DREAM of twilight, closing softly 
down 
With veil on veil of cool, delicious 
dye; 
From rose to blue, from blue to violet, 
Then Venus — pale within the purple 
sky. 



130 



I 



A PRAYER 

NFINITE Wisdom, Sanity and Holi- 
ness, 
Answering all who come to Thee in 

lowliness, 
Giver exhaustless to those who, selfless, 
plead, 
Give to my need ! 

Give me a knowledge born of sense and 

precision, 
Knowledge of truth and justice, power 

of decision, 
Let me, in meekness, bid old faiths 
decline 
If new faiths shine. 
131 



Strength of the body, mind, and spirit 

give to me, 
Let all Thy joy and beauty live to 

me, 
Let me not fear to laugh, and to rejoice 
With singing voice. 

And, when Thy will through stranger 

ways is leading me, 
Humbly I kneel for one thing only 

pleading Thee, 
Courage to face, unflinching, each new 

day, 
Courage — I pray. 



132 



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